Lord and Lady-Killer
by i-swear-we-were-sufinite
Summary: When world-renown pop star Ludwig Beilschmidt begins school at West Valley Academy, sweet-faced lady magnet Feliciano finds the girls' attention taken away from him. However, when he is appointed to guide scary, famous Ludwig around the school, both find their attention on something far greater than either imagined. High school AU.
1. Hail Lord Doitsu!

"When he walks into the room, you will not cheer. You will not scream his name, or ask him to sign your binder. You will sit quietly and respectfully when he enters." In middle of the room, a red-haired student watched his teacher lazily as she addressed the class. It had taken forever to shut everyone up; the room bore too much excitement for this quiet to last. All around him, girls were fighting back the squeals that had bombarded him when he had first entered the room. Usually, he was met with some chatter, along with smiles and cute little waves from some of the girls. Today, he walked in like a shadow, unnoticed and ignored. Only one name left their sweet lips today: the name of the internationally famous pop star that would begin institution-based school for the first time in seven years. "Are we all clear?"

"I wonder what kind of pencils he uses," a blonde girl with a squeaky voice piped up, the excitement within her bursting. "Oh my God, what if he _drops_ one, and I find it and take it?" Like a row of dominoes, the energy struck the next girl and her control fell. She shrieked and flapped her hands around as if she was not in control of her actions.

"Where will he sit?" she asked. "Please tell me it's next to me!"

"What kind of math does he take? I'll bet he's a genius, he has to be!"

"Of course he's a genius, don't you know anything about him? Once he walks into the classroom, he'll know immediately that I'm his biggest fan, and we'll be contenders for 'best couple'!" The noise pounded in his head; he covered his ears with his pale hands, trying to block out the high-pitched waves of teenage girl. Some of his classmates were quite cute. Today, they were beautiful enablers of chaos.

His teacher smacked her white board furiously. "_Calm down!_ You will alienate him on his first day! I don't care how famous or 'hot' he is; he is here for a high school education!" To her dismay, the chatter did not soften. "Do you want to force him to transfer on his first day?" Silence fell. Wide-eyed girls stared at their teacher, suddenly interested in what she had to say. A smile emerged on her face as she paced around the front of the classroom. "I know it is not every day that Ludwig Beilschmidt, winner of three Grammy awards, including Artist of the Year, as well as five successful tours in over forty countries, born in Germany, with the body of both a male model and a bodybuilder combined perfectly, is starting as a student of West Valley Academy . . ." she took a moment to swoon, her blue eyes glazed over in a haze of admiration and joy. After a sip of water, she continued to speak. "If anyone would like to volunteer to escort him around our lovely campus—" several hands shot into the air, all of them female. The boys in the class groaned and muttered, clearly unhappy that some German-born celebrity was stealing their spotlight. None of the girls had paid an ounce of attention to any of them since the news came. "I told you, all you crazy fangirls are going to scare him away—Feliciano, why don't you guide our new student?" The red-haired boy pointed to himself in confusion as an angry uproar drowned out all other noise.

"That's not fair! Feli can't even name a Ludwig Beilschmidt song!"

"Do you realize who this is, Mrs. Cravitz? This is _Lord Doitsu_ we are talking about! Our _savior_! Don't you realize he needs a completely devoted follower like me to guide him?"

"Lord Doitsu is the Creator of all great music, and you allow a wimp like Feliciano to guide his holy steps?" A brunette girl, who had fallen for Feliciano's flirtatious advances in the past, scoffed. She flashed him a dirty look; it made him feel offended. "He'll run away at the sight of his bulging muscles . . ." He had a feeling that he, like the other boys, would be forgotten by the girls for the rest of his high school career. He tried to plug his ears with his hands, but it did nothing to ease the furious, high-pitched shouts. Usually during homeroom, he would either talk to the girls or sleep, but none of those options were available to him.

Due to his repertoire of opera music, Feliciano had never even heard of Ludwig Beilschmidt, nicknamed "Lord Doitsu" by the fanatics, until a week before his arrival. He hadn't realized how many people were into his music, and from what he's seen of the pictures that girls shoved in his face, he didn't look special. He just looked kind of angry and scary. If Mrs. Cravitz wasn't such a nice lady who allowed him to eat in fifth period English, he would have avoided the newcomer completely. Though he could always give the job to one of his eager classmates, he figured that since he earned his teacher's trust, he might as well do the job he had been assigned.

Meanwhile, chaos continued to ensue. The deep, rowdy voice of disgruntled boys added with the girls' gossiping and squealing.

"Ludwig Beilschmidt is gay!" one insisted, sneering at a short girl wearing an iron cross around her neck. According to the die-hard fans, Ludwig wore one constantly, and clothing stores were able to make a fortune by selling cheap metal knock-offs to crazed fans.

"His music is shit," another added. Several cross-bearers huffed.

"You wouldn't know good music if it hit you in the face!"

"If Lord Doitsu's so 'gay', then why is he going marry me, and honeymoon in Cancun, and have three children with me, named Desiree, Xavier, and Ludwig Jr.?"

"You really think those stupid, cliché lyrics are aimed at _you_?"

"Lord Doitsu's songs are inspiring, uplifting, and beautiful. What do _you_ listen to, songs with lyrics like 'sex, money, and girls'?" Mrs. Cravitz placed her hand to her lips desperately.

"Class, I really need you to quiet down!" She looked horribly anxious. Her pace had quickened and she kept watching the door. "Please, quiet down, for just two seconds—" With a click, the door opened, and all arguing halted.

"Am I in the right class?"

"PRAISE THE LORD!" An incredibly handsome teenager stood in the doorway, looking horribly confused as a flurry of his admirers crowded around him. Even though he was surrounded, he towered above the sea of fans, staring at the rest of the class with intense, piercing blue eyes. Feliciano noted his large biceps and made a mental note never to anger him. A few of the other boys did the same, but those who did not either crowd or cower sulked at their desks, bothered that they were never as popular as the blonde, fair-skinned celebrity. Though Feliciano assumed many wanted to, nobody made a move to touch Ludwig—they simply invaded his personal space. Mrs. Cravitz hurried to the new student's side and began to shoo girls away.

"Stand back! He is a student, not a work of art in a museum! Get back to your seats!"

"Where does Doitsu sit?" one girl asked. Feliciano noticed Ludwig sigh. He probably endured this often; how much privacy could an internationally famous singer have? Mrs. Cravitz ignored the girl and spoke to her student.

"Welcome, Ludwig. I apologize for my students' uncharacteristic lack of decorum. Please take the empty seat in the right corner of the room." The indicated seat was positioned strategically behind the teacher's desk. He pushed his way through the swarm of girls and sat down, all eyes focused on him. A smile emerged on Mrs. Cravitz's lips as she watched him, his own expression indifferent.

"Alright, let's start the lesson, shall we?"


	2. The Lord's Sanctuary

When the bell signaled the end of the period, it took the teacher's greatest efforts to drive the fans away. At her request, both Feliciano and Ludwig stayed behind. Mrs. Cravitz's eyes were trained on the door. She frowned slightly, but she assumed a smile once she saw the two boys standing in front of her desk.

"I apologize again for my class, Ludwig. It appears that some of my students became a little too excited about your arrival—"

"No, it's fine. I assumed it would happen." Feliciano could already tell that this teenage idol never smiled. The pictures the girls had shown of him had him standing strong as he stared at the camera with cold blue eyes. In front of him, his gaze and his closed-lipped expression never faltered. He didn't even look like the kind of person so many fangirls would worship. Sure, each of his limbs had more muscle mass than the average male, but his face was stern, his hair was pulled back, and his speaking voice was harsh-sounding. The red-haired student hovered a close distance behind him, though he did speak to the teacher politely.

"They'll get over it. In the meantime, I'd like to introduce you to Feliciano. He's going to show you around the school today." She gestured towards the shorter, friendlier-looking boy. _Just smile and act like he's nice . . ._

Ludwig's eyes trailed over his body and his face, causing Feliciano's nerves to act up. This boy could probably kill him with a single touch. What if he was a bad guide? Then this buff student would get lost, and then he would hate him and come after him. Or Feliciano could be too annoying, and he would hate him for that. Suddenly, the shorter, nervous boy felt as if he was in over his head. Should he have let someone else take the job? He took another look at the stern, unchanging face. _Yes_, Feliciano decided. _I need to protect the pretty girls from Ludwig! They don't see how scary he is, but I do, so I can save them!_ He liked his classmates, but he wasn't sure if he would sacrifice himself for them. He balled his fist and attempted to muster up some courage. He was on school property . . . just because Ludwig was a celebrity didn't mean he could get away with hurting him . . .

"So?" the blonde asked, his voice strong and harsh. "Are you going to show me around or not?"

"Yes, sir!" Feliciano saluted—was he supposed to? It sounded like an order—and opened the door for him. The bell for class rang; briefly, students waiting outside Mrs. Cravitz's class squealed at the sight of the celebrity. After much commotion, they were ordered inside, and Feliciano was alone with a very, very scary man.

"And this is the gym, where gym class takes place; I wouldn't know much about gym, because I'm on the soccer team . . ." Feliciano stuttered, gesturing to a double doorway, where the sound of squeaking rubber and shouts emerged. Ludwig stared critically at the room, clearly not knowing what to make of the redhead's nervous chatter.

"May I ask a question?" Feliciano nodded while stuttering an affirmative response. For a second, the new student appeared thoughtful. "How do I say this . . . why are you so nervous?"

"Me? Nervous?" Feliciano tried to laugh, but he knew that his terrified nature was obvious. "I know all of the girls think you're handsome and perfect—you are rather good-looking, but you never smile, and that makes me feel like you're going to hurt me, and you're so strong . . ." He trailed off, unsure if what he was saying was only making the situation worse. What was he supposed to say to him? Ludwig's eyes were trained on him; causing his heart to beat faster. He was going to hurt him, for sure. He was going to—"

"I am not going to hurt you. That's a ridiculous and irrational thought." Feliciano sighed, relieved. He was safe! He laughed joyously, causing Ludwig to raise an eyebrow.

"Thank goodness!" he exclaimed. "I was worried . . . everyone says I'm a coward, even my own brother, and I suppose it's true because I'm scared of a lot of things—"

"Are you Italian?" Ludwig wondered. "Oh, I didn't mean to interrupt, I was just wondering."

Feliciano laughed a little, slowly releasing his nervousness. "Yes, I am. I moved here when I was seven. I already know you're German, because everyone told me you were. How did you know I was Italian?" He knew he had a bit of an accent, but the question slipped out nonetheless.

Ludwig shrugged. "You talk with your hands." Feliciano nodded in understanding. "Is there more of the school you need to show me?"

Maybe the new student wasn't as scary as he imagined.

Ludwig had encountered fans before. He knew to expect crazed teenaged girls to swarm him and follow him around, but he figured it would die down after a week or so. For now, he had to face rabid crowds between classes, circles of fans surrounding his desks, and worst of all, the people in his lunch wave. All he wanted to do was sit down somewhere nice, eat, maybe even work on homework. Instead, he found many empty tables and a barricade of girls, all staring at him and shrieking. The high levels of high-pitched noise were starting to give him a headache. He generally preferred to avoid publicity at all costs, due to this very reason. _They'll get used to me_, he told himself, unsure of what to do about the situation in front of him. He couldn't just push his way to an empty table; that would be rude. Maybe he could eat in some abandoned janitor's closet or something.

It had been his decision to go to school again. After years and years of being dragged from town to town, from country to country, he needed to rest. It was exhausting, and all of it was unnecessary—paparazzi surrounded him in public, as well as fans. For a whole year, he refused to leave his house. When he did, he often wore ridiculous disguises. Why did he even bother with all of this? All of his real talent was auto-tuned and edited; all of those "deep and meaningful lyrics" fans quoted and recited were handed to him. He sighed, turning away from the wall of fans just as school staff arrived to shoo them back inside. In the beginning, his life had been fun and exciting. Now, it was just exhausting, public, horrendous. If Ludwig could have his way, he would quit. High school would be his first step.

He came across a set of double-doors as he walked along the hallway. The little Italian hadn't showed him these; were they off-limits? If they were, nobody could find them. Much to his delight, they opened to reveal a staircase. Ludwig hesitated for a moment, wondering if he was breaking any rules. Surely, if he was breaking the rules, the doors would be locked, he thought, deciding to find out where the isolated staircase led. To his surprise, at the top of it he found himself standing on the roof of the school, overlooking the street.

What shocked him more that finding himself standing on the roof was the fact that he spotted a figure sitting alone, smiling as he leaned back, clearly enjoying the slight breeze. A second later, he recognized the boy as Feliciano, the same boy who had led him around the school. Ludwig didn't know whether he should sit next to him or not. Would it be too weird, as they had just met? He could probably sit on his own, but it would be nice to talk to someone. He froze, unable to decide between his two options. Fortunately, the other student had recognized him, and began to run over to his side.

"Ludwig!" he called cheerfully, a smile illuminating his face. "I didn't think you would find this place! We're at the top of the school. Are you afraid of heights, Ludwig?" the boy laughed to himself. "Of course you aren't! You're not scared of anything, are you?"

"Um . . ." His laugh was gentle and lyrical. It fascinated Ludwig, who had never heard anything like it. The taller boy ended up shrugging, unsure of what to make of this constant chatter.

"Great! I like to eat up here, because it's so sunny and nice, and it feels like a secret, special place." Ludwig let out a cry of protest as Feliciano grabbed him by the wrist. "I'll show you my favorite place to sit." The grip was loose and made him feel uncomfortable. Just what was he doing, touching him? He didn't want to come off as rude, so he followed Feliciano orderly and sat down when they arrived at the back corner of the roof. Solar panels lined the left and right sides of the top of the building, obstructing them from the view of passerby, as well as the many photographers who had gathered in front of the school, in vain attempts to take pictures of the blonde superstar. By facing the back of the school, they became less visible; those who kicked soccer balls on the field or threw basketballs into hoops below them paid no attention to the two. It was sunny, the views were spectacular, and he was hidden from his admirers. Up here, it was almost as if he could forget his unwanted titles and become anonymous.

Feliciano smiled at him as he twirled spaghetti absently. "You could sit anywhere in the school, and you found my rooftop and me instead," he commented. Ludwig could not think of anywhere he'd rather be. Birds chirped and the temperature outside was perfect. He shrugged off his jacket, revealing a simple black muscle tee. The breeze tickled his shoulders and tugged playfully at a few loose strands of his slick-backed hair. He shrugged, meeting Feliciano's gaze.

"We are alone. I like solitude," he claimed. "I do not like crowds very much, yet I can never avoid them." He motioned towards the front of the school, where relentless paparazzi had gathered, along with a crowd of girls brandishing signs he couldn't quite read clearly.

"Me neither," Feliciano admitted. His hair swayed with the wind; one strand of it refused to lie flat with the rest. "I get really nervous in crowds, and I want to run away, but I can't, because I'm stuck inside a mob of people." Feeling truly comfortable for the first time that day, he took out his food and began to eat. "There are a lot of crowds today."

"Yeah," Ludwig agreed, wondering if the young-looking boy next to him knew the reason why. "I came here for school, not a press conference." He had no privacy. Everywhere he went, new fans and cults argued for the right to beg for his autograph or a picture. People used him as an excuse to make money. Would Feliciano understand his aggravation? "They will have to give up eventually."

"You're really famous, aren't you? All the girls were ignoring me this morning, and they usually don't; actually, they've been ignoring me all week, because they heard you were going to this school and they were really offended when I said that I've never heard of you—oh, I'm sorry!" Ludwig raised an eyebrow.

"Why are you apologizing?" Feliciano shrugged again.

"I thought that you would be mad that I haven't heard of you before. I don't listen to the radio much, and I don't really watch TV, so I haven't heard your name—"

"That's okay. It's actually kind of nice—all morning, people have been trying to talk to me, just because I'm famous. You don't seem to care." Ludwig noticed how kind Feliciano looked when he smiled. He closed his eyes when he smiled, giving him the impression of one who was carefree.

"I'm always glad to make new friends! I thought you were really scary at first, but now I think you're pretty nice!" _Friends_. Now that he thought about it, Ludwig never really had any friends. Some of the other kids had run away from him, thinking he was scary, but for the most part, he simply lacked the initiative to be social. His mother saw music as an outlet for him, but it only worsened his social situation. The only person he felt he could call his friend was his obnoxious older brother, Gilbert. Could he really have found someone to share his life and experiences with?

He could only hope he did.


	3. Letters to the Lord

"Doitsu Club holds its first meeting at lunch today, in room one hundred one . . . informational swim team meeting will be held in the gym, and is mandatory for all members . . ." Feliciano tuned out the morning announcements, half asleep on his desk. A week had passed since Ludwig's arrival at school, yet the swarm of fans surrounding him was relentless. Still, every day found Feliciano sitting on his rooftop with Ludwig, talking and laughing and learning more about each other. He found that Ludwig had an older brother, just like him, that longed to move back to Germany, his favorite food was potatoes, and his laugh was very deep and guttural. They never discussed his fame; Ludwig never wanted to. His friend was always late to see him, because his fans followed him everywhere he went; to make sure their time together was private, Ludwig had to devise clever diversions to attract attention away from him for long enough so that he could slip through the double doors, walk up the staircase, and sit down right next to Feliciano. He usually told the crowd that he needed to use the bathroom, and when they refused to give him privacy, he had lashed out at them, and the crowd had dispersed. Fortunately, there was a men's room situated in the same hall as the staircase. A part of him wished that the girls would pay less attention to him, but he knew they had good intentions. They just wanted to talk to him, didn't they?

A tap on the shoulder pulled the boy out of his daze. In front of him stood the cute brunette girl that had told him off a week earlier; he stared into her shiny brown eyes and smiled, putting the past behind him. Immediately, he brushed his hair back and leaned casually to his side, still while looking into her eyes. She giggled, causing his heart to beat with pleasure.

"Feliciano," she said through laughter, shaking her head a little. "Seriously! I have something to ask you!" Feliciano's eyes lit up as his classmate bit her lip playfully. Staring at the ground, she pulled out a piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to him. Feliciano took it, eying it curiously. Was this a love poem? He felt his cheeks turn a little pink.

The girl stared at her shoes shyly, only causing him to blush harder. "Um . . . how do I say this? Feliciano . . ." His heart was beating so quickly and so pleasantly.

"Yes?" he asked, hanging on to her every word. It had been a week since he had been flirted with like this—and it had been the most flirting he'd ever done. He would flatter the girls and cause them to blush, but he had never received a love note, or an invitation for a date.

"Could you deliver this to Ludwig?" His heart sunk. Of course this would happen. He wasn't famous, and he wasn't a new student, either. His new friend was interesting and though he liked to be around him, nobody had paid an ounce of attention to her friendly classmate anymore.

"Sure," he replied, his voice less cheerful and his eyes less wide. He stared down at his desk, hoping his bangs would conceal his eyes. How embarrassing, he thought, well aware of his burning cheeks. Still, he pocketed the letter, making a mental note to give it to Ludwig at lunchtime.

Three periods later and Feliciano had far too many love notes sticking out of his binder. The general thought was that because he had shown him around the school on his first day, he must have some special access to Ludwig that the singer had denied them. He didn't quite understand why he was so bent on avoiding them. Of course he knew how awful crowds were, but he could at least talk to them or offer to sing them a song. That's what Feliciano would have done, if he were in Ludwig's place. He sighed, his thoughts straying far from the history lesson he was supposed to be taking notes on. Ludwig was somebody important, and he was so accomplished. Not only did he begin singing at eleven years old, but he had won so many prestigious awards and titles. He was strong, and all the girls wanted to talk to him, to be with him. All it took was someone better than him, and more successful than him to take away his charms and everything that made him interesting. Sure, he could draw well, and he was on the soccer team, but he sure as hell wasn't a celebrity. The bell rang, interrupting his thoughts and signaling the beginning of lunch. Angrily, he debated whether or not to deliver the love letters. Didn't they know that Ludwig didn't care? Immediately, he regretted his thoughts of anger, ran to his locker, and placed the notes in his lunch bag. He couldn't deny the requests of many. They would only care less for him if he did.

Ludwig arrived fifteen minutes after he did, looking thoroughly exhausted. He wiped a sheen of sweat from his forehead as he sat down quickly, still paranoid that the paparazzi from below would catch him. Online, Feliciano had seen headlines like "Lord Doitsu Attends School!" and "Is Ludwig Beilschmidt Left-Handed? The Proof is in his Entrance!" The article went on to argue that because he had been spotting opening the school's front doors with his left hand, he must use it to write. Hopefully, the lack of public interest in such topics will eventually force the crowds of cameras to leave. It only reminded Feliciano of the abundance of notes in his lunch today, and how not a single one was for him.

"These are for you," he explained, forcing himself to hand the papers to Ludwig. They were all different shapes and sizes; some were folded meticulously while others were folded in half once, without aligning the edges. Frowning, the blonde took them, read one, and shoved it away.

"Are they all like this?" he asked roughly. Though Feliciano wished the notes weren't there, they reflected people's hopes of talking to Ludwig. So many people would be heartbroken to know that he barely spared a thought for them.

"What does it say?" he asked, though part of him didn't want to know. Ludwig's strong fingers picked one up, unfolded the notebook paper, and read its contents:

"Dear Ludwig Friedrich Beilschmidt—My name is Lauren, and I am your biggest fan. Other girls will say they like you more, but you should know that I have twelve posters of you hanging up in my room, a T-shirt from your 'Vaterland' tour, an iron cross necklace (an authentic, not a fake), all of your CD's (real copies, not downloads) and your movie. My favorite song of yours is Ich Liebe Dich and it's my dream for you to speak those same words for me. Maybe if you want, we can grab a smoothie after school sometime? Love, Lauren D." Ludwig stared ahead, his expression unwavering, though he seemed a little shocked. Feliciano leaned closer to him, in order to gain a better view of the note. "'Ludwig Friedrich Beilschmidt'. That's what my older brother calls me to annoy me."

Feliciano laughed, feeling a little guilty for finding Lauren's confession humorous. He found a piece of paper resting between Ludwig's legs; quickly he picked it up and began to read.

"Dear Mr. Beilschmidt—I love you so, so much! My birthday is coming up. Can you please sing for me and my friends? They'll be at my party. Love, Jessica C." He knew Jessica; she was a short girl with dimples that used to wink at him every day of last year. Now, she was another girl on the ship that had left him for Port Doitsu. His face fell visibly, but Ludwig hardly noticed. "Are you going to read the rest?"

"They're all the same," he insisted, shaking his head. "I don't need to." Feliciano's disappointment was quickly replaced with anger. He shoved a handful of notes into Ludwig's hands.

"They're not the same," Feliciano insisted. "Behind each letter is a different girl, and though the dream to talk to you is the same, they are all separate people! Reading one doesn't mean you've read them all! It means you've read the dreams of one person, and neglected the dreams of the rest!" His voice increased in volume, stunning even him. From day one, he had planned on never challenging Ludwig. The blonde was just as stunned as Feliciano was, but he made no move to start a fight. He stared at him with wide blue eyes, no longer sure of what to do with the notes. Suddenly shy, Feliciano laughed, feeling pink flush to his cheeks. He was curious as to what Ludwig would say, but he simply stared in silence.

"Why don't you want to talk to the girls?" Feliciano continued, trying to put words into Ludwig's mouth. "I like to talk to them. They're pretty, and a lot of them are really sweet, even if you think they're annoying—"

"They only like me because I am famous," he spoke finally, his voice accentuating every word. "Take away my fame, and I'm . . . well . . ." Ludwig laughed a little; the sound of it intrigued him. "I'm serious, and I'm just, well, awkward." He stared at the ground. Feliciano thought he was hiding something, like a blush on his cheeks. Concerned, he patted the top of his arm, scooting closer to him.

"You're really muscular and strong and kind of handsome, even if you are scary. I think the girls would like that—"

"Nobody even thought of talking to me before I was famous. I guess it might have been because I was some strong-looking child, and I never talked to anyone, so my social skills are a bit . . . I can talk to you alright, but with anyone else . . ." He cut off his statement, clearly at loss for what to say next. He tried harder to hide his face. Feliciano moved closer, and leaned against his bicep. He had to wonder how it was even possible to achieve a body like Ludwig's. Maybe that was another reason why the boys didn't like him very much.

"I don't think you like being famous, Ludwig," Feliciano whispered, his eyes closing. He could feel Ludwig's heartbeat quicken, though he did not know why.

"It was always Gilbert who wanted to be famous," he admitted. "You know, my older brother?"

"Yes, you told me about him," Feliciano said sleepily. Afternoon was a good time for a nap. Though he began to drift off, Ludwig continued to explain, and he continued to listen.

"He's two years older than me, and he wanted to become a singer. Unfortunately for him, my parents insisted he had no talent and denied his requests." Feliciano sighed and nodded. It felt unfair, especially now that Ludwig was famous in his brother's place. "My parents really wanted a famous son, and they had a family friend in the music industry. I began recording and eventually reached the level I'm at today." He spoke dully, as if he wasn't even remotely proud of such a high achievement. "I've told her that I wanted to stop, but I can't. She says I have too many fans, and I would crush too many dreams." He felt a wave of sympathy for Ludwig, as well as relief. He was suddenly glad he wasn't in his place. The girls admired him, but Ludwig wasn't happy, and he couldn't even quit. "My voice hardly belongs to me. It's edited, and it's fake. To think of it, I was never really that great at singing to begin with . . ." Ludwig stared back at Feliciano; he wore a smile this time. Opening his eyes, Feliciano gasped and began to laugh.

"Is anything wrong?" Ludwig asked, suddenly tense.

"I don't think I've ever seen you smile yet, Ludwig." His blue eyes widened; his smile became lost in thought. When it returned, it brought a laugh back with it.

"You know Feliciano, I don't think I've smiled in a while." Hundreds—maybe even thousands of notes meant nothing to someone important like Ludwig. Feliciano laughed, realizing that it felt nice to be something that could mean more to him than anyone in his school. Again, his eyes closed, and a smile and a pair of blue eyes was the last thing he saw before drifting away.


End file.
